Everything was connected.
Sean checked his timetable again.
Ravenclaw, First Year:
Monday morning:
Potions, Potions
Monday afternoon:
History of Magic
Note: First-year class times at Hogwarts run Monday to Friday, 9:00–12:00 in the mornings and 14:00–15:30 in the afternoons.
Compared to higher years, the first-year schedule was undoubtedly light. No lessons stretched past three-thirty in the afternoon.
That also meant young wizards needed a greater measure of self-discipline and independent study.
Behind the half-roast chicken he was devouring at the long table in the Great Hall, Sean's cheeks were puffed full. Herbology was certainly gentler than Potions, though even magical plants had their dangers.
Still, Sean reasoned, he could avoid the hazardous ones and practice instead with safer specimens.
Plants like dittany or daisies.
If only…
If only he could find Professor Sprout and persuade her to let him into the greenhouses. Perhaps he could help with chores that would be a fine opportunity.
Just then, several older Hufflepuffs passed behind him, their conversation catching his attention.
"Come on, hurry up. Professor Sprout's setting up for the first-years' lesson today. We'll be busy for a while."
"It's the same every year. I don't mind helping her prepare the plants. I just hope I don't run into those jagged three-leaf things again. Do you know what they are?"
"What? You mean you were sneezing for three weeks and never even learned the plant's name?"
"I thought it was you lot cursing me behind my back."
"We did curse you, but no one can keep it up for three straight weeks. Same way you couldn't keep a romance going for that long."
"Oi! Can you not bring that up again "
"Well, if you hadn't slipped itching powder into our hats and underwear "
"Alright, alright, I admit it, I was wrong!"
As the three Hufflepuffs were about to pass, Sean quickly stood, craning his head over the Ravenclaw table.
"The serrated three-leaf plant you mentioned should be sneezeweed a poisonous plant."
"It's often used in aphrodisiacs and anaesthetics, and its dried leaves can also be ground into sneezing powder.
If you don't want to catch it, best keep at least two metres away. The pollen blows everywhere on the wind."
Sean's clear, confident voice made the three older Hufflepuffs stop in their tracks.
"Smart little wizard. You must be a Ravenclaw first-year. But you really shouldn't have told Bruce the truth he'd have been sneezing for ages."
The brown-haired wizard smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief.
"Oi, oi, at least don't say that in front of everyone…" the short-haired boy muttered helplessly.
"If you hadn't put itching powder in our hats and underwear "
"Can we please let that go?" the slightly rounder boy cut in. He said it with a pleading tone, though the lack of remorse and the faint look of enjoyment on his face suggested he'd found the prank worth it.
"Oh, thanks for the warning," Bruce said with a sheepish grin. "Sneezing three times in a row is bad enough. Anyway, we've got to go. Next time we meet, I'll treat you to a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans."
Just as they were about to move off, Sean called after them.
"I've always wanted to learn more about magical herbs. Could I come with you to help Professor Sprout prepare the plants? I've memorised all the herbs in our first-year textbook maybe I can be useful."
He rattled off his strengths quickly, waiting for their answer.
In truth, even if they refused him, Sean intended to find his own way to the greenhouses now that he had overheard their conversation.
"Huh?"
The brown-haired wizard looked uneasy.
"You seriously memorised that whole brick of a book?"
Bruce's eyes went wide.
"Bruce! Professor Sprout never said we could bring anyone!" the brown-haired boy Leon hissed, instantly recognising what his companion was about to suggest.
"Relax, Leon. There aren't any dangerous plants in Greenhouse No. 1, remember?"
"And with one more pair of hands, we'll finish much faster. I've got Divination this afternoon, and I don't want to miss the tarot tea party."
The short-haired wizard Bruce looked at Sean with interest.
"Sorry, but I need to ask a few questions first. I don't want you ending up like the first-years who made a mess in the greenhouse."
He sounded apologetic, but his words came quickly, almost like a test.
"What's the nickname of the Arioth tree?"
"Hyena Tree."
Sean answered without hesitation.
"What shape are the leaves of Baixian?"
"Oval, oblong, or oblong-lanceolate."
"What does mistletoe produce?"
"Mistletoe berries white berries. They're used in common antidotes and in Forgetfulness Potions."
"Then you're welcome to join us."
Bruce clasped Sean's hand solemnly, and even Leon and the third wizard looked surprised.
"My name's Bruce. This is Leon, and that's Pister."
"Sean Green."
…
And so Sean gained his chance to enter Greenhouse No. 1, where they were to help Professor Sprout process herbs.
The work included pulling weeds, harvesting mature plants, and driving back the stray tentacles that stretched over from Greenhouse No. 3.
"Those dangerous plants always seem to fancy Greenhouse No. 1," Bruce explained, shrugging. Then his tone grew firm. "It doesn't happen often, but if you spot one, go straight to the professor."
Sean memorised the advice carefully.
Under the warm sunshine of the Scottish Highlands, he followed the three Hufflepuffs out of the castle toward the greenhouses.
Ahead stood three dome-shaped buildings of different sizes, their curved roofs gleaming with glass panes that caught the light.
"One more thing," Bruce added cheerfully. "Greenhouse No. 1 is the one at the front. If you get it wrong, just pray Professor Sprout is nearby. Kidding, kidding just remember to run fast."
He rattled off details as they walked. For all his joking, it was clear Bruce knew what mattered most. Leon and Pister nodded along, backing him up.
When the creaking wooden door was pushed open, a rush of hot, damp air hit Sean full in the face.
Pister's glasses fogged instantly with a film of white mist.
Everywhere Sean looked was a riot of greenery.
There were giant, gourd-like plants pocked with warts; a potted sneezeweed whose cluster of jagged leaves rustled noisily; and trellises of vines coiling around the greenhouse walls.
Shelves overflowed with pots of the strangest flora some puffing out little clouds of smoke, others with leaves that pulsed like beating hearts, and still others heavy with glowing, jewel-bright fruits.
Only a narrow path wound between them all.
And in the middle of that path stood a short witch with flowing grey hair.